A Noble Heart
by WickedForGood13
Summary: Set at any point during their travels together - the Doctor overhears Donna having a nightmare. When she wakes up, they have a discussion about self-worth and what makes someone special.


The Doctor was prowling around the TARDIS, something he often did at night when he wished to prolong going to bed. All was quiet, save the low, reassuring hum of the TARIDS. Suddenly, though, the silence was broken by a piercing wail. And, just like that, the Doctor was off like a shot, having correctly identified the sound as coming from Donna's room. He arrived at her door and barged in without preamble, panting for breath as he observed her in the throes of what was obviously a nightmare.

"No!" she wailed, tossing and turning as the sheets tangled around her body, drenched with sweat.

Careful in his movements, not wanting to startle her should she abruptly wake, he sat on the edge of her mattress. He was just about to reach for her arms, hopefully to still her flailing limbs, when he heard her say, "Don't you _dare_ touch him. Take me instead. His life will always be more precious than mine could ever be."

That decided him. At hearing Donna speak so disparagingly about herself – no matter who the companion in her dream was – he swiftly had her arms pinned above her head, at the same time trying to shake her awake.

"Donna—" he called to her. "Donna, wake up."

All at once, her eyes snapped open, darting from side to side as she took in her surroundings. Her breath hitched as she saw who was leaning over her so concernedly, and she shut her eyes again, hoping to block out the images that had been flashing across her vision mere moments before.

Having convinced himself that she was fine – at least, physically – the Doctor released her arms, letting his own come to rest uselessly in his lap, before he started fiddling with the edge of her bedspread, uncomfortable with being idle.

"Sorry," she whispered, as the silence between them stretched on.

His head snapped up at hearing her _apologize_, of all things. "What?" he asked. Then, just as quickly, he continued, "No, don't be silly. You have nothing to apologize for."

Silence fell again, threatening to smother them. At last, though, the Doctor spoke up, saying gently, "If you want to talk, Donna, I'm here. Believe me, I know what a powerful affect dreams can have on a person's psyche, and how helpful it can be to share that with another person. Take advantage of this moment, Donna. Many times I've needed someone, only to find myself alone."

Taking a shaky breath, Donna sat up and wrapped her hands about her ankles, drawing her knees in to her chest. "I don't remember the specifics – isn't that funny with dreams? But you were in danger and there was nothing I could do – nothing but offer myself in your place."

"And what could possibly possess you to do that? Either in your dreams or in reality?" asked the Doctor, horrified at hearing that anyone would be a willing sacrifice for his sake.

"Do you not know what you mean to me – or, for that matter, to the rest of the world – Doctor?" she countered just as readily. "As long as you're alive, the entire universe is safe. And as your companion, it's my job to keep _you_ safe. And if that means getting you a banana at three o'clock in the morning, or dying in your place, then I'll do it, just so that you can continue to come back and save the whole of humanity however many more times it may manage to screw itself up."

The Doctor stared at her in wonder for many long moments. Finally, though, it registered that he should actually _respond_ to her words of devotion. So, he gathered her in his arms, crushing her to his chest.

"Oh, Donna," he murmured in her ear. "My brave, noble Donna – only you …" his voice trailed off, too overcome to go on.

She returned the embrace just as tightly. "Doctor," she whispered, "never doubt that you are worthy of mine and others' love. You are a _good_ man. Yes, sometimes you may get carried away, but your intentions are always good – and that's the main thing. Remember that, Doctor," she urged him.

"I will, I promise," he told her. "But you have to promise me something in return." She stared at him, quirking a brow in indication that he should continue, so he did. "You have to swear that you'll try to think better of yourself. No more self-deprecating statements – nothing. I want to hear only good things come out of your mouth from now on. Can you promise me that?"

Sighing heavily, she rested her head against his chest. "I don't know, Doctor. I've never really felt good about myself. My mum—" here she broke into sobs, at which point the Doctor began rubbing her back soothingly and murmuring nonsense things in her ear again. "Mum was always critical of me, and of others. So I became critical of myself. Pretty soon, I never felt good enough for anyone, or as if I would never be good at anything. Even now …" her voice trailed off, unsure of what she wanted or was trying to say.

The Doctor simply held her, aghast at learning what she really thought of herself. How could one person – one _human_ – feel all that and not explode? Donna Noble never ceased to amaze him.

"Donna, I want you to listen very carefully to me," he said seriously. "I don't know what I'd do without you by my side. I'd probably have died by now, many times over, if you hadn't been there to either encourage or hold me back. You are an amazing person – you're sweet, and kind, and funny … traveling with you has been an honor. Forget what nonsense your mum may have told you. What does she know? Listen to what I'm telling you now: _you_, Donna Noble, _are_ worth mine and everyone else's love, just as you say that I am. And, if you were to ever be in trouble, I would consider it a privilege to fight for you, as well as beside you."

Not knowing what to say or do, Donna settled for throwing herself at the Doctor, sending them both crashing to the floor. "Thank you, Doctor," she mumbled, almost incoherently, in his ear. "I never believed I was worth anyone's time before tonight."

"Well, I intend to remind you a lot more often of your worth," he assured her. "Now, let's get you back to bed."

Pulling back the covers for her, the Doctor tucked Donna in, just as he would his own daughter. An odd thought, considering her age, but at the same time, it seemed to fit. They were mates, after all, and were he to have children again, he would want to be more than their father – he'd want to be their friend.

"Good night, Donna Noble," he whispered, bending over her peaceful form to press a kiss to her forehead, "Pleasant dreams." With that, he turned to leave, pausing in the doorway once more to regard the sleeping woman – a noble figure with a heart to match.


End file.
